With the news of Freya's recent engagement floating around, my mum has become more frantic than ever. It's as though I'm the one who's getting married and she needs to get the preparation done in less than two months. That's not her job - I have to constantly remind her as we sit in the little quaint café she's grown fond of -- it's Mrs Hendricks' job. My mum's not listening to me (when has she ever?), unfortunately, so I've given up.
"Are you sure it's not a curse, darling?" She asks me, worry lilting each and every word she speaks, causing me to wince. As she places a hand on my forearm, she looks at me in the eyes like she's trying to read me, "You haven't been with anyone since-"
The second my brain registers that she's about to say his name, I stop her midsentence, "S'not a curse, mum. You're clearly overreacting."
"I'm just worried about you, Beverly," she tells me as she lets out a rather dramatic sigh, pushing a strand of hair away from her face, "Your best friend's getting married and you're still, well.. alone."
Her words put a knife in my heart and when she offers me a sympathetic look, one that has the power to turn me vulnerable, I feel the knife being twisted inside of me. I haven't seen that look in a while as this is the topic we've avoided for as long as we can, but now that Freya is getting married soon, it is brought back to the surface.
Looking at my mum, it dawns on me that maybe she is just worried. Worried that she'll never be able to know what it feels like to prepare a wedding for her daughter, because if there's one thing about her that none of us understands is that she absolutely adores wedding.
The next thing I realise then is that she must have been reminded of what we went through over a year ago. Of what it feels like to prepare a wedding together. She could've been doing what Mrs Hendricks is doing right now - running around London to search for dresses, cakes and the best venues for Freya's wedding - but here she is, having lunch with her daughter who is not getting married.
"I'm not alone," I tell her, breaking the silence between us and at that her face lights up. An idea pops into my head but I push it away immediately. I am not telling my mother that I'm dating someone; she'll never stop bugging me. And I certainly am not into getting myself tangled in a web of lies. "No, I haven't met anyone yet, but I'm putting myself out there. Again."
There. That's not a lie. Not exactly, at least.
Her lips are pulled into a broader smile and I know that if there's no table between us, she would've pulled me into her arms and she would've kissed me until there are lipstick stains all over my face. "Oh darling, that's great!" she exclaims, earning a few questioning looks from the strangers around us. She doesn't seem to care, though. "You'll find someone better! I mean, look at you, you're absolutely stunning."
I look down at the simple outfit I've chosen to wear and frown. She must have lied merely to flatter me the way she's done it a lot of times before. That's what a mother's supposed to do, she always says. "Again, you're overreacting, mum."
"Nonsense! You're my daughter, after all. Of course you're stunning," she adds with a wink as she reaches for her cup and takes a sip of it, "Also, the second you find someone, I want to be the first to know. Remember that."
"Of course," I assure her with a small smile even though I know that if - and by if, I mean a big fat if - I miraculously find someone, it would be Freya who will find out about it first. My mum will probably be the third to find out, as my sister will be the second. It has always been that way since forever.
"Anyway, who's this Niall bloke anyway? Helen's never told me anything about him," my mum says next once she's put down her cup. A frown takes up the space between her brows and she leans forward slightly as though she's preparing herself to hear a nasty secret. "Tell me, is he old? Or-" she pauses, her eyes widening as she opens her mouth to say her next speculation, "-is she pregnant?"
